


20 Things Blaine Wants To Do With Kurt

by chasingkerouac



Category: Glee
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Hand Jobs, Humor, M/M, Romance, Summer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-17
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 07:31:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/488290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingkerouac/pseuds/chasingkerouac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because 'The 20 Things Blaine Anderson Wants to Do With Kurt Hummel Before Kurt Leaves Blaine At McKinley to Deal With All of The Ridiculous Things That Happen During Glee and at McKinley For 365 Days Before He Can Join Kurt In New York and Start Their Fabulous Life Together' was too long of a title for a list, according to Kurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Also on tumblr [here](http://ckerouac.tumblr.com/tagged/fic%3A-20-things-with-kurt)

“This is absolutely ridiculous, Blaine.”

Blaine’s eyes went wide as Kurt looked up from the meticulously handwritten note. He’d taken his time with it. He’d put a lot of thought into it. He’d made sure that it said _exactly_ what he wanted it to say. “No it’s not,” he insisted. “It’s descriptive.”

“It’s wordy,” Kurt countered. “And lovely, I mean, the sentiment is wonderful, that’s not what I’m talking about at all. It’s just wordy. And I’m not sure it makes total sense, either.”

“It’s a wonderful title!”

“The 20 Things Blaine Anderson Wants to Do With Kurt Hummel Before Kurt Leaves Blaine At McKinley to Deal With All of The Ridiculous Things That Happen During Glee and at McKinley For 365 Days Before He Can Join Kurt In New York and Start Their Fabulous Life Together,” Kurt read, enunciating the words for Blaine. Because surely Blaine hadn’t actually said the words out loud and thought ‘yes, this is the perfect title for this list’. 

Blaine reached up to fiddle with his bowtie before sighing. “Okay, so there was a lot that I wanted to say with the title,” he said. “But the sentiment is completely understandable.”

Kurt bit his lip lightly as he watched Blaine. His boyfriend was nervous, which generally was an adorable look on him. “You know, this may explain your grade in English this year...” he teased.

“My English grades were _fine_ ,” Blaine scoffed. “Besides, you always had me look over your papers when we were at Dalton.” He reached over and poked a finger against the paper. “You said I gave the best feedback,” he added proudly. 

Kurt cocked his head to the side and smiled patronizingly at his boyfriend. “Oh... honey... you were cute and I wanted an excuse to spend more time with you. I had Nick look over things after you did for a real edit.” He reached up and brushed an imaginary bit of lint from Blaine’s shoulder. “But you were the most attractive editor. By a long shot.”

“So... you were just making an excuse to spend more time with me?”

“Pot, meet kettle,” Kurt said, leaning forward to give Blaine a kiss on the cheek. “I didn’t ever do anything that you didn’t. Although it made me feel like much less of a creeper once I figured out that you were doing the same thing.”

“I never - “

“Candles.”

“Okay, just once - “

“Baby It’s Cold Outside.”

“Alright, alright! You were cute and I wanted to spend more time with you!” Blaine relented. He should be annoyed at how pleased Kurt looked right now, but he just couldn’t. Not when Kurt was wearing his ‘cute smug’ face, and not when the entire point of the list was because his time was running out. “And maybe this is just an excuse to spend more time with you before you leave. But I want to make sure that I have a chance to do everything I want to do with you this summer before you head out east.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck absently. “I’m going to miss you.”

Kurt look a step back and sighed. “Blaine, NYADA didn’t want me. I’m not going anywhere.”

“So? Screw them!” Blaine countered. He reached for Kurt’s hand, linking his fingers with his boyfriend’s and holding on tightly. “They made a mistake. But I know that you’re still going to find a way to leave, because you should. You need to. Because you’re Kurt Hummel, and Lima’s too small for your bright star, and standout fashion, and just... you. Lima’s not enough and as much as I hate the idea that we’re going to be apart for a year, and as much as it sucks that NYADA didn’t recognize your talent, if you’re not going to NYADA, well, you still need to _go_. And I know you’re going to realize that soon. So I know we have a limited amount of time together and... well, these are my list of demands before you leave.”

“Demands?” Kurt chuckled. He rubbed his thumb along the back of Blaine’s hand. The NYADA rejection had be crushing. The NYADA rejection coupled with the fact that they did, in fact, want Rachel ‘I Choked During My Audition’ Berry was just salt in the wound. Add to that the fact that he’d been so caught up in the romance of the idea of being accepted to NYADA that he hadn’t bothered to apply to any other schools... well, he’d spent most of the summer moping on Blaine’s shoulder while they ate cheesecake and watched varied Kardashian antics. He knew he had to come up with something to do, but everything was a second-choice and Kurt was tired of having to fall back on second and third choices. Just once... just _once_ he wanted to get his first choice. But that was neither here nor there at the moment. “Can we at least come up with a shorter name for your list of demands?”

Blaine just smiled. “Anything you want.”

“How about just ‘20 Things Blaine Wants to Do With Kurt’?” Kurt suggested. 

Blaine let go of Kurt’s hand long enough to slide it behind his boyfriend’s head and pull him down for a kiss. “We’re going to start tonight,” he said. “I’ll be back around 8.”


	2. Stargaze

Blaine, as always, was prompt. He showed up and rang the Hummels’ door right at eight, and shifted the folded blanket his arms as Burt opened the door. “Evening, Mr. Hummel,” Blaine said brightly. 

“Hey, Blaine,” Burt said, pushing the door open and waving Blaine inside. “You and Kurt have big plans tonight? It’s a little late for a... picnic?” he said, motioning to Blaine’s gear.

“Oh, this?” Blaine chuckled. “No sir, not a picnic. My plan is to whisk your son away for an intriguing evening of astral delights,” he laughed.

Burt’s eyes narrowed as he stopped in the middle of the hallway. “You’re going to do what now?” he asked.

Blaine’s eyes went wide, realizing just how that would sound to Kurt’s _father_ instead of the amusing tone Jeff was using over text to plan it. “Ah, I mean, stargazing,” he backtracked quickly. “There’s a meteor shower tonight, and I thought that Kurt might enjoy going out and watching it. It’s a clear night, and it’s supposed to be a really good show, and the community college is putting on a viewing out at the picnic area as you head out of town... and I promise to have him home by midnight,” he explained.

“Ah,” Burt murmured. Blaine knew it wasn’t true, but ever since Mr. Burt Hummel, Kurt’s supportive dad and mild-mannered tire shop owner, had become Representative Burt Hummel, Kurt’s supportive dad and mild-mannered tire shop owner but now in addition to sitting member of Congress, the ‘ah’s and ‘oh’s and disapproving eyebrow quirk that Blaine had only recently realized was the same one that Kurt used when he thought Blaine was being ridiculous seemed much more intimidating. It was probably because now Burt could _actually_ send the National Guard after them if Kurt was out past curfew, instead of just threatening it. At least, that’s what Finn said Burt had told _him_ after he was out late with Rachel. 

Blaine knew to consider the source, but still... it wasn’t something he wanted to test out. 

“It’s something I’ve never done either,” Blaine continued, setting the blanket down by the door. “Well, only when I was younger, but I was with Cooper, and I’m pretty sure there aren’t actually constellations called ‘Elvis Scandalizing Ed Sullivan’, ‘Duran Duran Accepting A Grammy’, and ‘Doogie Howser Typing’.”

That got a laugh out of Burt, and the tension that had been there was suddenly gone. “Next time your brother’s in town, you should invite him over for dinner,” Burt insisted. “I’ve heard too many stories not to want to put a face with a name.”

“I’ll do that, sir,” Blaine promised as Burt stopped as he passed the stairs and called up to Kurt that Blaine was here. As soon as Kurt had responded (the typical ‘five more minutes - offer him something to drink!’), Blaine automatically followed Burt into the kitchen for the glass of water he always asked for in response to the question Burt no longer needed to ask. “So, when do you have to head back to DC?” Blaine asked, taking a sip of the water.

“September 10th,” Burt replied, pouring a glass for himself and leaning back against the counter. “I have a couple of meetings with my staff before then, but for one of them they’re all coming to the Lima office, so I’m enjoying my break.”

“I thought Kurt said that you were spending a lot of time at the shop?” Blaine asked.

Burt grinned as he took another sip. “Like I said, I’m enjoying my break.”

“I’m ready! I’m here!” Kurt exclaimed as he bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen. At Blaine’s insistence, he was in dark jeans and one of the few t-shirts that he owned. Blaine hadn’t explained _why_ proper going out fashion wasn’t needed, but Blaine had been usually dodgy when he asked for the itinerary of the evening. “You’re right on time.”

“The better to get things going,” Blaine beamed. “I was just telling your dad a story about Cooper from when I was little.”

Kurt looked from Blaine, to his dad, and back to Blaine. “Why were you talking about Cooper?” he asked.

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you the same story on the way,” Blaine laughed, reaching over to link hands with Kurt. “Now, c’mon, the first checkmark is waiting.”

“Be home by midnight, kiddo,” Burt said, as the boys went to grab Blaine’s gear at the front door. 

***

“So... this is why stargazing required my most casual of casual dress,” Kurt said, his hands tucked behind his head as he stretched out on the blanket Blaine had arranged near the edge of the park. 

Blaine just laughed. “I didn’t think you’d want to be lying on the ground in some of the designer pieces you’re known to pull out of your closet.”

“I didn’t know that stargazing required lying on the ground at all.”

“It doesn’t always, but that’s part of the fun.”

Kurt tilted his head to look at Blaine. “Lying on the ground is part of the fun?” he asked drolly. 

“Hey, you like doing all sorts of things lying on your back...”

“Oh my god, Blaine, shut _up_ ,” Kurt said, untucking one hand to shove his boyfriend hard enough to get the point across. “We’re in _public_.”

Blaine playfully clutched his shoulder in mock pain. “At least I didn’t add _that_ to the list. Although if you want to make changes...”

“Shut _up_ ,” Kurt insisted, attempting to ignore the earnest and playful look on Blaine’s face. The only good thing about being out at night like this was that Blaine couldn’t see how hard he was blushing. “This is not ‘outside where everyone can hear us’ type of talk. I don’t want to discuss my sex life with a portion of the city of Lima.”

“No one can hear us, Kurt,” Blaine said. “We’re far enough away from the crowd that no one should be listening in. It’s as private as I could get us, since this is the one good place to stargaze within the city limits.” He reached over and linked his fingers with Kurt’s, smiling up into the darkness as their palms pressed together. 

“Still,” Kurt murmured, turning his gaze up to the sky to try and look at what Blaine was looking at. “I like knowing all of that’s just for us. Not for anyone else.”

“I won’t bring it up again in public anymore,” Blaine promised.

“Now... private is another matter entirely...” Kurt added lightly, squeezing Blaine’s hand.

Blaine squeezed back and settled in to look at the stars. “So... stargazing,” he said.

“Stargazing,” Kurt repeated. “I guess I didn’t realize it was such a popular pastime in Lima. There are a ridiculous number of people out here.”

“That’s because it’s a meteor shower tonight,” Blaine explained. “One of the big ones. The Perseids. Named because the meteors look like they’re emerging from the constellation Perseus.”

“Look at you,” Kurt chuckled. “When did you become a star guy?”

“Um...”

“That’s all you know about what’s going on tonight, isn’t it?” Kurt asked, unable to hide his amusement. “I could start asking questions and you’d be as clueless as Mr. Schue in Spanish class.”

“Jeff was explaining it to me,” Blaine sighed. “He’s really into this stuff, so he was trying to explain why this was a big one, and I just... I must not have been paying close enough attention. But it’s so romantic, and they always do this in movies, and on tv, and it was a romantic things that we hadn’t done yet, so I thought... why not?”

Kurt laughed, shifting closer to Blaine on their blanket and pulling their clasped hands up to kiss Blaine’s fingers. “It’s incredibly romantic,” he assured his boyfriend. “And I think you’re really -- ooh! Look! I saw one!”

Blaine had been too busy looking at Kurt to catch sight of the shooting star, but according to Jeff there were supposed to be, like, forty every hour, so he was sure he’d see of one eventually. And even if he didn’t see a single one, the look on Kurt’s face when he saw this last one, the pure excitement and wonder, made the trip worth it. “You know what you’re supposed to do with a shooting star, right?” he asked.

“Make a wish,” Kurt answered. 

“So... what did you wish for?”

Kurt tsked and shook his head, although this time his gaze not faltering from the dark night’s sky. “I can’t tell you that or it won’t come true.”

“Oh c’mon,” Blaine prodded. “You don’t have to keep it a secret. Maybe it’s a wish I can help make come true.”

“You told everyone your wishes when you were little, didn’t you?”

“You’ve met Cooper. He didn’t take too kindly to things being kept from him, even if they were the wishes of a five year old.”

Kurt shifted again, this time to let his head rest against Blaine’s shoulder as another pair of stars shot across the sky. “Okay, but you have to join in too. For each one we see, someone has to make a wish.”

“That sounds good,” Blaine agreed. “You go first.”

“Okay...” Kurt murmured, waiting a couple of long minutes until he saw a streak. “I wish that I’ll find a way to get to New York,” he said softly.

Blaine nodded. “You will,” he replied. “There’s nothing in heaven and earth that could keep you from doing what you want to do. You’re Kurt Hummel and you’re a force of nature.”

“You missed one,” Kurt said, pointing up.

“I wish that _when_ you move to New York, we’ll talk every day,” Blaine said. “I don’t ever want to go a day without talking to you. Even if my phone bill is going to be ridiculous.”

“Skype is free,” Kurt pointed out.

“Yeah, we’ll deal with number four later,” Blaine grumbled. 

“I can’t believe you had to put that on the list.”

“It’s just _weird_.”

Kurt just laughed. He squeezed Blaine’s hand again, loving the feel of Blaine squeezing back. They wouldn’t have as many days like this as he’d like. Because even if Blaine wasn’t right about him getting to New York, he knew that he was going to have to go _somewhere_. He couldn’t stay in Lima. He just couldn’t. There was nothing for him here. So even if he didn’t know when, he’d leave, and it would be too long before Blaine could join him, and just sit and squeeze his hand again. 

The meteor shower was picking up speed, and it just made sense after a few minutes to take turns with the wishes without waiting for someone to point at one of the streaks. “I wish... to become famous,” Kurt said brightly. “To have my name up in lights and everyone concerned about the enormous talent that is me.”

“With paparazzi jumping out of every bush at you?” Blaine teased.

“They have to get a picture of my dashing boyfriend and myself somehow,” Kurt pointed out.

“Does that dashing boyfriend have a name in your fantasy?”

“Blaine Anderson.”

“Kind of a drab name for the arm candy of someone as famous as Kurt Hummel,” Blaine pointed out. “Maybe he should change his name to Dakota or Montana or something else that screams manly and macho and, you know, my biceps have biceps.”

“Nah,” Kurt mused. “Too much trouble to change all of the doodles in my notebooks. I think I’ll stick with Blaine.”

“Okay,” Blaine laughed. “Well, I wish... to get married someday. To a great guy, with great fashion sense, who sings like an angel, can change my oil, and do a backflip cause he spent some time on his high school cheerleading squad.”

“That sounds terribly specific,” Kurt laughed. 

“Yeah,” Blaine sighed. He shifted his head to rest on top of Kurt’s. “Yeah it does.”

“I wish...,” Kurt trailed off softly, his heart racing at Blaine’s last wish. He wanted to talk about it, but he didn’t. They were young, and he’d made fun of Rachel for saying yes to Finn, but hadn’t he admitted to Blaine that he would’ve said yes, too? And in the middle of the hallway at school, no less? He’d meant it - sure, it had been in the middle of all of the Rachel and Finn wedding fiasco nonsense, and he hadn’t thought about it before he’d said it, but he’d meant it. He didn’t care if they were eighteen and lived in Ohio, he would’ve said yes. And then Blaine had made that ridiculous and wonderful _ring_ of all things. And... 

He couldn’t think about it anymore. Not now when Blaine was working through a ‘countdown list until you’re gone’. “I wish that my Dad will stay healthy,” he said, attempting to change the subject.

“He will,” Blaine promised, even though there was no way he could make such a promise. “Hummels are resilient.”

“That we are,” Kurt agreed. 

“I wish that Cooper keeps his promise to stay in touch more,” Blaine said. “I miss him. Even if he’s... Cooper. I can hear him pointing at me over the phone. ”

“I wish that I could magically know how to make the perfect cheesecake,” Kurt countered. “Does Cooper like cheesecake?”

“I don’t know anyone who could dislike _your_ cheesecake,” Blaine assured him. 

“Then that’ll be one way we can make him stay in touch. Bribery with baked goods,” Kurt laughed. 

“I wish...” Blaine sighed. “I wish that my parents would accept me like Cooper does,” he admitted quietly, squeezing Kurt’s hand again. “I wish that they would accept me to the point where they stop referring to you as ‘my friend from glee club’.”

Kurt tucked his head against Blaine’s neck and pressed his lips against his skin. He wished that for Blaine, too. “They’ll come around,” he promised softly. “They have to, because I’m not going away. And that would be really awkward if I was forty and they were still calling me your friend from glee club.”

“You’re going to go away from Ohio,” Blaine pointed out. His voice sounded sad, he knew that, and he’d tried to keep that tone at bay. Because it wasn’t wrong that Kurt was going away. It was sad, but it was an inevitability. It’s why he made the list. It’s why he wanted to take advantage of all of the minutes, hours, and days that they had before Kurt finally got out. So he wasn’t sad that Kurt was going to leave and follow his dreams and take somewhere new by storm - he was sad that there was going to be time before Blaine could join him. 

“But you’ll come with me, eventually,” Kurt pointed out. “Blaine, you’ll come with me. I know it. You know why?”

“Why?” Blaine murmured. He could feel Kurt’s smile against his skin before he could hear the words. 

“Because you want to get married some day.”

“I do,” Blaine whispered. ‘I’d follow you anywhere’ wasn’t said, but it didn’t have to be. “But tonight I want to look up at the stars with you.”

“We have plenty of time before my curfew,” Kurt said, rubbing his thumb across the back of Blaine’s hand. “So, why don’t you tell me one of these star facts or stories that you know, since you’re now an expert at stargazing.”

“Okay,” Blaine beamed, motioning up to a cluster of bright stars. “Have you ever heard the story of the constellation ‘Duran Duran Accepting a Grammy’?”


	3. Actually Learn How to Bake Cookies

“Why do I have to wear the apron with the ruffles?”

Kurt glanced over his shoulder, grinning as Blaine toyed with the ruffles at the collar of his apron. “Because you wanted to learn how to bake. And as the teacher, I get to choose which apron I want, which means you get the other one,” he called out as he retrieved materials from the pantry. “I’d also like to point out that it’s especially curious that you’ve asked me to teach you how to bake _after_ making a sweeping promise last Christmas to, if I remember correctly, bake me cookies twice a year.”

Blaine shrugged sheepishly as Kurt lined up ingredients on the kitchen island next to a laminated recipe card. “I’ve made cookies before,” he explained. “They were just...”

“Hmm?” Kurt murmured, moving from the pantry to the fridge for the wet ingredients. Blaine mumbled something incoherent. And that just wouldn’t do. “I couldn’t understand you, dear,” he said. 

“Slice and bake,” Blaine admitted. “Okay? They were slice and bake. And they were pretty good, I might add,” he tried, even as Kurt bit his lip to keep from laughing. “No, seriously, they got a little crispy on the bottom, and they come in all sorts of holiday -- okay, see the laughter is why I asked you to help me learn,” he sighed. Kurt had lost the battle with keeping a straight face just as soon as Blaine started raving about the cookies being ‘crispy on the bottom’. “I want to make you cookies, cause it’s sweet, but I also want you to enjoy eating the cookies, so I figured I’d ask the best baker I know.”

Flattery usually worked on Kurt, and this time was no different. “I like having you in the kitchen, so let’s make some cookies. And then we can eat some cookies.”

“Before Finn gets home?” Blaine asked hopefully. Not that he didn’t enjoy spending time with Finn. Well, he enjoyed spending time with him now that they’d worked through their issues that had cropped up when Blaine transferred to McKinley (Although Blaine would forever maintain that all of the issues were on Finn’s side, and Blaine had been nothing but friendly and willing to help. While they didn’t share much in the way of interests in common, both Finn and Rachel had a real knack for declaring themselves the injured party when someone else who was also talented and/or friendly with everyone came around.) But Blaine knew that if the cookies were still out in the open when Finn walked through the door, half of them would be gone before he and Kurt would hear a ‘hey, guys, do you know what’s for dinner tonight?’

“There’s no way I’d let them sit out in danger of Finn,” Kurt promised. “So, we’re going to make cookies.”

“And these are ones that will compete with the fancy, New York cookies that you’re going to have available to you?” Blaine pressed. “Because the bakeries there are going to be fantastic and I need to have something perfect to tempt you away from those other cookies. Since you probably won’t have the space to make them yourself.”

“What do you mean, I won’t be able to make them myself? And here, start cracking eggs,” Kurt instructed, passing the eggs, a bowl, and the laminated recipe over to Blaine. 

Blaine cracked the eggs as directed, making sure to scoop out the small pieces of shell that always seemed to fall in. He wasn’t incompetent in the kitchen - he’d made dinner for Kurt on a couple of occasions when his parents had been out of town. And he was pretty damn proud of the tenderloin and roasted vegetables he’d been able to produce during his parents’ anniversary weekend away. But baking was an entirely different beast from regular cooking. Baking required precision, and attention, and measuring. It required not getting wrapped up in interesting stories, or watching Kurt’s adam’s apple bob up and down as he laughed, or spacing out while imagining licking the chocolate off of the corner of Kurt’s mouth once they were to the tasting phase of the cooking making - because melted chocolate on his beautiful lips was the main reason for insisting on chocolate chip cookies. No, with baking he had to pay attention or else the cookies would be ruined, or the kitchen would catch on fire. Like when Cooper was sixteen. But no one in the family mentions that story anymore. Mom did get the double oven she wanted out of the catastrophe, so it wasn’t an entirely unhappy ending. 

No, baking required concentration. Which, now that Blaine was in the middle of it, he realized was the completely wrong tactic to take. He should’ve asked for help in learning how to make something that involved the steps ‘toss into pot, wait four hours while it cooks.’ Then they’d pop the lid off of the pot and have something wonderful. But he suggested cookies, so he was going to learn how to make the best damn cookies Kurt had ever tasted. 

He’d promised them twice a year, after all. 

“In your tiny New York apartment,” Blaine explained. “You may not have a lot of space to cook. Oh, speaking of your tiny New York apartment, remind me to show you something after we get these into the oven.”

“You mean, speaking of my completely imaginary tiny New York apartment?” Kurt asked. “Seriously, Blaine, I love your optimism, but as of right now, you’re looking at my living arrangements for the foreseeable future.” The door to the garage swung open, and then closed, following the rustle of keys. “And my roommates. Hi, Carole,” he called out as his step-mother poked her head into the kitchen. 

“Hi boys,” she said brightly. “What are you making?”

“Kurt’s showing me how to make his oatmeal chocolate chip cookies,” Blaine answered, measuring out the rest of the wet ingredients. 

Carole’s eyes lit up. “Are they supposed to be out of the oven before your dad and Finn get home?” she asked hopefully.

“Barring setting something on fire, which I’m most certainly not planning on,” Kurt laughed. “Don’t worry - we’ll save you a couple before Finn shoves them all into his mouth at once, and we’ll have the rest hidden away before they can tempt Dad off his diet.”

“We can let him have one,” Carole chided.

“Only one!” Kurt insisted. 

“That’s all I ask,” Carole said. “Because if we don’t, he’s going to mope. And you get to go to bed and ignore it, but I’ll hear about it all night. So save him one. And save me some separate from what you save for Finn. I’m going to get out of these scrubs and put some laundry in. You boys make sure to clean up everything once you’re finished.”

“We will, Mrs. Hudson,” Blaine replied as she gave them a quick wave and headed upstairs. 

“So, back to my imaginary tiny New York apartment,” Kurt said. He handed Blaine a spatula. “Fold everything in gently. There’s no need for speed here. We don’t want to make the batter gummy.”

“Yes, your tiny apartment,” Blaine continued, stirring as instructed. “Well, I just know how many clothes you have. And everything that they show on House Hunters and The Nate Berkus Show and back on Oprah when they did that whole tiny apartment series... Kurt, you’re going to be using your oven for storage for your sweaters or something. Either that, or you’re going to have to get rid of some of your clothes.”

Kurt gasped, affronted. “Blaine Anderson, you take that back. I am _not_ getting rid of my clothes.”

Blaine just laughed. “Hey, I’m just saying what I saw. I bet Martha has an answer for it. She has an answer for everything else.”

“I can... hang shelves from the ceiling,” Kurt said, scooping out some of the batter to test the consistency. “I can store things under the bed. I can store things in cabinets because really, I only need enough plates for me, my roommate, and you when you come to visit.”

“I guess I could always bring my own plate to save space,” Blaine suggested. “And only drink out of the water bottle that I will make sure to carry along as well.”

“Which would probably give me space for one or two more shirts. I like this plan,” Kurt laughed. “Alright, the batter can be scooped, so here, I have the sheet ready.” He pulled the first parchment-lined cookie sheet over and showed Blaine how to get evenly sized dough balls to keep baking times even. “That way, we don’t end up with burnt edges,” Kurt explained. “So I’ll let you scoop onto that sheet, and I’ll do the second.”

It took two cookies sheets, a few spoons, and all of their fingers to get the dough balls out and arranged to Kurt’s liking. Blaine held up his messy fingers, hesitant to just wipe them on the apron. “Ah, I need help turning on the faucet,” he said.

Kurt quirked an eyebrow and tilted his head. “Blaine, it’s cookie dough.”

“Yeah, it’s cookie dough.”

“No, Blaine... it’s _cookie dough_ ,” Kurt repeated. With Blaine still looking clueless, Kurt grabbed one of his hands and licked the dough off of Blaine’s thumb. 

Blaine’s eyes went wide. He wasn’t expecting Kurt’s tongue, his _wonderful_ tongue, on his fingers, especially not with Carole walking through the house. And oh god, all of the things he wasn’t able to think about because he was concentrating on baking and getting measurements right came flooding right back into his brain. Although try as he might to find something sexy and seductive and maybe a bit naughty to get back at Kurt for surprising him like that, what came out instead was, “But there’s raw egg in that.”

Kurt chuckled low in his throat as he licked off the rest of Blaine’s fingers, one eye trained on the door to make sure that Carole was still upstairs. “It’s _cookie dough_ , Blaine. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t like cookie dough. And honestly, if there are such people out there, I’m not sure I want to be friends with them. So, here, try,” he added, scraping off the dough from his own fingers to ball up on his thumb, offering the treat to Blaine. Which Blaine gladly ate, proving Kurt’s point with a soft and satisfied moan as he pulled off. “See? Cookie dough is one of the main reasons to make cookies.”

“So... I should just send you some of the dough in the box as well?” Blaine asked, trying to pull himself back together for the task at hand. Cookies. Cookies were the task at hand. 

“I wouldn’t turn it down,” Kurt said. “So, let’s get these into the oven and see how well we’ve done, hmm?”

***

Kurt and Blaine had moved to the couch to wait for the cookies to bake. They wouldn’t be in the oven long enough to watch any show in its entirety, so instead they just sat, snuggled next to each other while Carole continued to putter around upstairs. “There’s something about freshly baked cookies that makes a house feel... I don’t know, more homey,” Kurt murmured, letting his head rest against Blaine’s shoulder.

“They always do that on, like, Love It or List It, or Selling New York, or shows like that,” Blaine agreed.

“You watch too much HGTV,” Kurt sighed. “It’s house porn.”

“Really?” Blaine laughed. “You have the entire Bravo line up commited to memory. I mean, c’mon... what’s on at... say... Sunday nights at 10?”

“The Real Housewives of New Jersey, but everyone knows that,” Kurt answered. “Yet another show that makes me glad that my dad is sane and I don’t have a large extended family. But it’s still better than house porn.”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m just trying to get a good idea of what your tiny little loft in New York is going to look like,” Blaine said. 

Kurt shifted to take Blaine’s hand, but he didn’t look up him. “Blaine... I get that you want to be supportive but... I’m here in Lima. I’m not in New York. And no amount of you saying that it’s coming, it’s coming, it’s coming is going to change that,” he sighed. “I’m stuck. Here. Which isn’t terrible, because I’m with you,” he added quickly. “But... still... here.”

Blaine turned his head to place a soft kiss on the top of Kurt’s head. “I told you - you’re too bright a star to stay here in Lima,” he murmured. “And hey, remember the constellation we just named? The one right next to ‘Doogie Howser Typing’?”

That got a laugh out of Kurt. “Are you talking about ‘Kurt Shows Those Bastards at NYADA What They Passed Up’?”

“That’s the one,” Blaine beamed. “And I keep harping on it cause I know it’s gonna happen. One way or another. So since it isn’t going to happen NYADA way, we just have to come up with another way.”

“It’s too late to apply to other colleges,” Kurt said. “I already checked. I still can’t believe I was so wrapped up in NYADA that I didn’t apply anywhere else,” he grumbled. “And I can’t believe Ms. Pillsbury just _let_ me do that! Isn’t that one of the jobs of the guidance counselor?”

Blaine shrugged, making sure not to jostle Kurt off of his shoulder. “So, it’s too late for college this semester. There are a lot of companies in the city still accepting applications for internships.”

“How would you know that?” Kurt mused.

“I... um...” Blaine fumbled. “I might have done a little research. For you. Not that I didn’t think you weren’t doing your own, but... that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. When we were in the kitchen. I found, like, seven or eight that don’t have deadlines for another week or so, and I know that you have all the stuff from your NYADA application, and I can’t imagine they’d want much more than the school information and a cover letter. And you’re brilliant at things like that.”

“I don’t know,” Kurt sighed. “I thought you had to be currently in school to get something like that. Maybe I’m just supposed to stay here in _Lima_ ,” he grumbled, the word sounding distasteful as he said it. “I can take over the shop and become a greasemonkey. Wear the same coveralls day in and day out. Adopt a trucker hat again. I think I still have that puffy vest in my closet somewhere.”

Blaine laughed, squeezing Kurt’s hand. “You could do that if you want to,” he replied. “And, speaking of greasemonkey, I think I’m going to change number three on the list. Just for that. It’s now ‘teach me how to change my oil’ and I want to see you in the coveralls.”

“Oh really?” Kurt mused. “I think I can do that. It would have to be tomorrow before the shop opens, but I can do that.”

“Perfect.”

“I might as well get used to it,” Kurt sighed again. “Since this is going to be my life from now on.”

“It’s a real shame you don’t even want to look at the list of internships,” Blaine continued. “There was actually one open at _Vogue_.”

Kurt shot up from Blaine’s shoulder and just stared, wide-eyed, at his boyfriend. “There’s what now?” he asked.

Blaine shrugged. The non-chalant act was kind of fun. “If I remember correctly, there’s one open at _Vogue_ that I found. But since you’re just going to stay here in Lima...”

The timer on the oven started buzzing, pulling the two of them back into the kitchen to keep the cookies from burning. “Well, I guess I could at least take a look at the list you made up,” Kurt said as he grabbed a dishtowel to pull the hot cookie sheets out. “Since you went through all that work for me. And I do appreciate it.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Blaine replied. He looked over Kurt’s shoulder at the pair of cookie sheets - one with the cookies Kurt shaped and the other with Blaine’s attempt. It was pretty easy to tell who was in charge of each sheet. The perfectly round and evenly cooked cookies on one, the slightly irregular and oddly shaped cookies on the other. “Well... they’re not perfect,” Blaine sighed.

Kurt tsked and shook his head as he started to remove the cookies to the wire racks to cool. “I will eat and enjoy oddly shaped, less that perfect cookies twice a year if you’re the one to make them,” he said, turning to give Blaine a kiss. “Because if they’re from you, they’re perfect. And thank you for looking up internships for me,” he added softly. “I doubt any of them will work out, but I appreciate the effort.”

“Any time,” Blaine murmured. “So, the most important question right now is - how long until the cookies are cool enough to eat?”


	4. Teach Me How to Change My Oil

“Are you sure that it’s necessary for _me_ to wear the coveralls, too? I was just going to watch _you_ in them.”

Kurt grinned, rolling up his sleeves as he motioned for Blaine to give a little spin in his very own pair of Hummel Tires & Lube coveralls. Well, they were technically an old pair of Kurt’s. But he was enjoying the vision of his ever-so-dapper boyfriend in a pair of too-long coveralls and an old pair of Kurt’s work boots. The embroidered ‘Kurt’ on a patch on the chest pocket flared a small, enjoyable flame of possession in Kurt’s heart that made him bite his lip as he shook that thought away. “Yes, it’s very necessary,” Kurt replied. He buttoned the last button on his own coveralls and pointed at Blaine’s car on the lift. “I don’t want you getting messy when you get your hands under the hood. Oil and grease are a bear to get out of fabric. Besides, you look good. Very professional.”

“Blaine Anderson, greasemonkey, at your service,” Blaine beamed. He glanced down at the thick roll of cuff resting on top of each boot. “I always forget how long your legs are until I put on a pair of your pants,” he said. 

“You _forget_ how long my legs are?”

“You know what I mean!”

“I always thought they were one of your favorite features.” 

“You know they are,” Blaine assured him, his voice sheepish. “Are you angry that I momentarily didn’t take into consideration your gorgeous long legs?”

Kurt shrugged. “You should make it up to me,” he suggested. “My poor, wounded ego.”

Blaine reached over and took Kurt’s hand in his. “I’m pretty sure your ego will survive,” he murmured. “Strongest guy I know.” He leaned over, brushing a light kiss to Kurt’s cheek. “Strongest guy I know who wants to get me in trouble in his dad’s garage.”

“We wouldn’t get in trouble,” Kurt insisted.

“What about last time?”

Kurt sighed. “Dad wasn’t angry we were making out in the garage,” he said. 

“He was angry we were making out when you were supposed to be getting brake pads from the back,” Blaine chuckled. “His eyes went wide. ‘You boys can do your kissing thing when Kurt’s off of work’,” he added in his best Burt Hummel voice.

“Yes, but Dad’s not here right now,” Kurt countered. “It’s just Mike this morning, and he’s working on his truck outside.”

“Mike’s caught us a bunch of times,” Blaine said. “Always covers his eyes and yells that we’re burning his retinas.”

“He’s overly dramatic. And besides, garage doesn’t open for another hour. We have plenty of time.”

Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt’s waist and set his chin on Kurt’s shoulder. “Kurt… as much as I would love to make out with you in the garage…” He tilted his head to whisper in his boyfriend’s ear. “It’s not on the list.”

Kurt groaned in frustration. “But it should be!” he insisted. “How could you not want to do that with me?”

“You know the reason for the list,” Blaine chuckled, refusing to let go of Kurt. “Things we don’t normally get to do together before you run off to the big city.”

“And leave you alone and unloved in backwoods Ohio for a year,” Kurt added. He’d heard that line so many times, it was burned into his memory. “Fine, fine. But I still think that some sort of making out should be added to the list. It’s a good thing to do. And I’m pretty sure you’re going to miss doing it.”

Blaine kissed Kurt’s neck. “I _am_ going to miss doing it. And I guess it would be a good thing to make sure that you remember what you’re leaving behind. Since you’re going to be confronted with all sorts of hot, worldly, older men in New York.”

“And none of them will ever compare with you,” Kurt assured him. Yet another line he’d said so many times that it came out without thought, although not without truth behind it. “I still want it added to the list.”

“I’ll add it in,” Blaine promised. “Make out somewhere we’ve never made out before. I promise. So… can we please work on my car now?” he asked.

“Fine, fine,” Kurt said. “I’ll stop trying to make out with my gorgeous boyfriend at his insistence.” He gave Blaine a soft pat on his butt. “That does mean you have to let go of me, though.”

“Yeah, I apparently didn’t think telling you to back off all the way through,” Blaine chuckled, even as he finally released Kurt from the hug and stepped back. “I do want to make out with you, though. You know I do.”

Kurt waved. “I know, I know. Oil change first, make out later. Alright, first up… let’s warm up the car.” 

***

Blaine wiped a bead of sweat from his hairline, leaving a grease stripe across his head. “It really gets hot in here,” he said as Kurt replaced the fill cap. “So that’s it? Everything’s all set?”

“Everything is all set,” Kurt said. He closed the hood and wiped his hands on his coveralls. “All that’s left to do is start up the car, let it run for a minute to make sure everything was installed correctly and to let the oil move.” He grabbed Blaine’s keys from the counter and tossed them over. “Your car -- start her up.”

“I never understood why cars are considered female,” Blaine mused as he opened his front door and sat down in the driver’s seat. “What makes them girls? What girl parts are there on a car? Why couldn’t a sports car be a… hot Italian soccer player instead?”

“You drive your mom’s old Volvo,” Kurt pointed out.

“Okay, why couldn’t my reliable used car be a mid-career German soccer player?” Blaine amended. He started up the car and sat for a minute as the engine came to life. “Sounds like a car.”

“That it does,” Kurt agreed. “Everything sounds good, nothing seems to be leaking or smoking -- I think we’re good to go.” Blaine turned off the car and tossed the keys back to Kurt to return to their place on the counter with the rest of his stuff. “You know, I’m surprised that your dad didn’t show you how to do this when you built that car.”

Blaine shrugged. “I wasn’t paying attention to a lot of it,” he said. “I knew he was just making me do it in the hopes that if I got my hands dirty somehow it would make me straight. So I tuned a lot of it out. I went over performance numbers for school in my head. So he’d ask me for a wrench and I’d think it was a microphone. I guess I should’ve paid closer attention.”

“Nah,” Kurt said. “This way I get to teach you from scratch. And I’m very good at it. If you’d had me rebuilding the car, we would’ve had it done in half the time, and the interior would’ve been three times as fabulous.”

“It would’ve been,” Blaine chuckled. He closed the car door and propped himself up on one of the stools as Kurt moved to start wiping down his tools. “You know, I guess I’m still surprised that you know as much as you do here,” he said.

“Why?” Kurt asked without looking up. “I work here during the summer. They don’t just use my pretty face for greeting customers,” he chuckled.

“It’s just…” Blaine trailed off, considered. “It’s just not like anything I’ve ever seen you take an interest in. And when your dad tells stories about when you were little, it’s all tea parties, and meltdowns in Sears because they didn’t have the right color pants, and decorating the inside of the small room on top of the swing set in your back yard.”

“We built that swing set together,” Kurt explained. “Yeah, I loved doing things like that, and I like making things nice. But when it was just me and dad, I came here every day after school. I didn’t get on the bus to go home, I got on the one that stopped at the neighborhood one block over and walked here. So I’d be here with Dad for a few hours every afternoon until he closed up and we’d go home and make dinner. And…” he trailed off, lost in a memory for a moment. “My Dad loves cars. He loves building things. He loves fixing things. He always has. And so I’d want to watch him doing this stuff, and I was tall enough to see under the hood and one day he gave me the wrench and said ‘Hey, kiddo, want to unscrew that lugnut there and give me a hand?’ And he showed me how he changed an oil filter. It was our thing, every day after school. And once I was old enough to stay at home by myself… I’d still come here after school most days because I liked it. Dad was proud of me, it was more interesting than cartoons on tv and way more interesting than my English homework, and it was something that always made sense. Even when… everything I was feeling didn’t make sense. That, and it turns out that I’m really good with my hands.”

“You are,” Blaine agreed with a grin.

“Not like that,” Kurt sighed. “I mean, _yes_ like that too-”

“No, I mean it,” Blaine jumped in. “You’re really good with your hands. You can bake, you can sew, you can fix cars, you can apparently build free standing backyard structures. You’re really good at things like that. You’re very good with your hands and that’s… really impressive,” he added with a shrug. “It’s just one of my favorite things about you.”

“That I’m good with my hands?” Kurt asked, glancing over his shoulder at Blaine.

“That I’m always learning new things about you,” Blaine corrected. “Each time I think I know you, you zig. And then bam, there’s a whole new dimension of Kurt Hummel. How people at McKinley don’t think that you’re the most amazing guy to ever walk the halls is beyond me.”

“Well… they _did_ think I was amazing enough to crown prom queen,” Kurt said. 

“There wouldn’t have been any competition if they’d let you do a talent portion,” Blaine chuckled. “Prom queen who can rebuild an engine. Sexy.”

Kurt laughed. “Who knew you’d get turned on by all the greasemonkey activity.”

Blaine hopped off the stool and wrapped his arms around Kurt’s waist, burying his nose into the back of Kurt’s neck. “When you’re the greasemonkey, it’s all sexy,” he murmured. “We’ve checked off the list item. I think we have a few minutes for… anything sexy you want to do.”

“Oh do we?” Kurt mused. He turned in Blaine’s arms, his own hands grasping at Blaine’s hips as he pushed in for a kiss. They were both hot and sweaty and dirty, but wasn’t that part of the fun? Making out, tasting Blaine in the middle of the garage, his boyfriend’s hands sliding further down to - 

“Oh _come on_ Kurt, not again!”

The boys jumped back away from each other, at the older man’s voice. Mike, one of Burt Hummel’s longest employed mechanics, was standing there, pressing the button to open up the bay doors and open the garage for the day. “This isn’t make out point. This is a place of business.”

“Morning, Mike,” Kurt said brightly, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand while Blaine tried to look nonchalant as he glanced around the garage. “I thought you were outside.”

“Yeah, well it’s 9am, which means that the shop is open, and your dad will be here any minute,” Mike said. “You realize this is the third time I’ve seen you boys doing your kissing thing here, right?” He set down the stack of daily orders on the counter. “You realize that’s why man invented cars -- so they could drive to private places to do things they don’t want parents seeing them do. Not in the garage where we fix those cars.”

“Please don’t tell Mr. Hummel,” Blaine said. “I don’t want him to think I was disrespecting his workplace.”

“Blaine, Dad doesn’t care -”

“No, your boy is right,” Mike said, a twinkle in his eye as he pointed at Blaine. “Yeah, your boy is right. Wouldn’t want Burt to think you were disrespecting his workplace. We can work out a deal, you know. You can do something for me. And we’ll consider it forgotten.”

“Sure,” Blaine said. “You want me to pick up lunch or something?”

***

Burt stood next to Kurt as they watched Blaine sit at the front desk of the shop. “So why is wearing that?” he asked.

Kurt shifted on his feet. “Mike caught us… kissing in the bay,” he mumbled.

Burt nodded. “He has a terrible habit of walking in on the two of you,” he said. “So he finally got his payback.”

“I offered to take the punishment for him,” Kurt said. “Blaine was being gallant.”

“Mike knows which one of you watches football,” Burt replied. “He knows which one of you this would hurt more. Looking good there, Blaine,” he called out, grinning.

Blaine tugged at the blue and yellow Michigan t-shirt and continued his sulk at the front desk. “Morning Mr. Hummel,” he grumbled.

“Why do you have on that terrible shirt?” Burt asked brightly.

“Just thought I’d cheer for a _good_ team today,” Blaine replied, struggling on each word.

“Kurt told me what Mike saw this morning,” Burt laughed. “You can take it off.”

“Oh thank god!” Blaine pulled off the shirt and tossed it back to Mike, who was standing at the edge of the garage with two of the other guys, laughing their heads off. “Go Buckeyes!” he called out.


	5. Get Over Fear of Using Skype

“I still can’t believe this has to be on the list.”

“It’s _weird_ , Kurt! And I do want to get over it, I do, but... it's just _weird_.”

Kurt just tilted his head and stared at Blaine, who was draped across his bed with his face shoved in a pillow. Finn and Puck and a few of the other guys from the football team had taken over the Hummel-Hudson residence in day long Call of Duty ‘fiesta of pain’, as Puck referred to it, so they were holed up at the Andersons. Blaine’s parents were both at work so they had the house all to themselves. It was nice to have the privacy, and perfect for the sort of practice they were going to do. “Don’t be such a luddite,” he sighed. “Besides, I would think you’d be eager to see my face during the, and I quote, ‘365 days before you can join me in New York and start our fabulous life together’.”

“I am,” Blaine insisted as he rolled over to stare at the ceiling. “I love looking at your face. All the time. In person.”

“What about pictures?” Kurt asked. “I happen to know that I’m 65% of the reason that your storage is close to full on your phone.”

“Pictures are different,” Blaine sighed. “They aren’t… moving. And talking to you.”

Kurt flopped down next to Blaine. “You realize this is a ridiculous fear to have, right? It’s right up there with… fear of the Snuggle bear.”

Blaine’s eyes went wide. “You said you’d never mention that, that bear is creepy, what the hell is he doing just rubbing up on people’s laundry like that?” he snapped. “He wasn’t invited into the laundry basket. He just shows up at your home.”

“Maybe someone shouldn’t have made fun of a very real discomfort with late night television vampires,” Kurt mused. 

“Touche,” Blaine sighed.

Kurt leaned over and pressed a kiss to Blaine’s cheek. “I love it when you talk fencing,” he chuckled softly. “Surrounded by your trophies.” He let his hand slide over Blaine’s thigh. “Bet you really know how to work a sword…”

“Blaine! Sweetie, are you home?”

Blaine swallowed hard as a door closed downstairs and keys jingled as they hit the counter. Kurt didn’t seem to be moving his hand, and he _really_ needed to move his hand if Blaine was going to converse with his _mother_. “I’m upstairs, Mom!” he called through his open door. No one was supposed to be home for hours, so they hadn’t bothered with thoughts like doors. It was just as well -- his parents would be livid if they found him and Kurt behind a closed bedroom door. He’d complained to Cooper when he started dating Kurt. It was so not fair, the double standard, they only did it because he was gay, they’d never do that to Cooper…

And Cooper _cracked up_. It wasn’t a gay rule -- they’d never even let Cooper take a girl _into_ his bedroom. Cooper was allowed to sit in the family room, where they could see that feet were on the floor and hands were out of laps. The closest to privacy he got was sitting out on the back deck when the weather was nice, and even then, Dad tended to flick the flood lights on and off at random times just to remind them that he was watching. Their parents had eased up considerably in the ten years between Cooper and Blaine, Cooper insisted. Probably not entirely unrelated to the fact that there was no way Blaine could get Kurt pregnant.

Still… open doors. No hanky panky. 

“The power went down at work, and they said it wasn’t going to be back up for another few hours, so they sent everyone home,” his mother called out, her voice getting closer and her footsteps echoing off the staircase. “Not that I’m complaining. No power means no A/C, and there are many things I can give up, but air conditioning is not one of them.”

Kurt took his hand off of Blaine’s thigh and moved a couple inches over on the bed as Blaine’s mother poked her head around the corner. “Hi Mrs. Anderson,” he said brightly.

“Oh, hello Kurt,” she replied warmly. “I didn’t see your car out front.”

“Blaine picked me,” he explained. “My car’s in the shop today. Tire rotation.”

She nodded. “Is your father enjoying being back in the shop?” she asked. 

“He really is,” Kurt chuckled. “Not that DC isn’t great, but he always enjoys getting his hands dirty. Literally.”

“It was so nice when he won,” she said. “Congress is such a den of…” she trailed off, pursing her lips and tilting her head as she searched for the right word. Just like Blaine does.

“Idiots?” Kurt suggested lightly. 

She smiled. “I was going to be kinder. But yes. It’s nice knowing that there’s someone with a bit of common sense there.”

“You should tell him that,” Kurt said. “Blaine said your car was doing a little squeaking when you pressed the brake. If you bring it in tomorrow, I can make sure it gets put on the top of the list.”

“Oh, that sounds perfect, thank you Kurt,” she said. “Well, I won’t keep you boys from whatever you were doing.”

“Thanks Mom,” Blaine said as his mother disappeared back into the hall. 

Once she was gone, Kurt turned and grinned smugly. “Your mother likes me.”

“Of course she likes you,” Blaine chuckled. “Who couldn’t like you? Even if you’re a terrible person and bring up perfectly legitimate fears regarding an animatronic stuffed laundry bear.”

“You’ll live,” Kurt insisted. He pat Blaine’s knee as he sat up and hopped off the bed. “Okay, come on, let’s get this over with and check it off the list. We’re going to make it so that you’re 100% behind the idea of video chatting me when I finally get out of his midwest hell hole. Because if you don’t, we can’t watch tv together, and you won’t be able to appreciate my effortlessly clear skin.”

“Number five would combat the idea that it’s _effortless_.”

“Details,” Kurt waved him off. “You’re supposed to pretend that I’m effortlessly beautiful.”

“You’re effortlessly beautiful,” Blaine repeated with a grin. 

“Good boy,” Kurt said, reaching over to pat Blaine on the shoulder. “Okay, so, let’s do this. We’re going to practice.” He hopped off the bed to retrieve the laptop in his bag and motioned toward’s Blaine’s on his desk. “Open it up, and open up Skype and we’re going to do a little back and forth so that you can get used to seeing people on the screen.”

“It’s just weird,” Blaine sighed. “And I know I need to get over it, and I will, but it’s just weird. I could just text you.”

“Texting doesn’t take advantage of my face,” Kurt reminded him. It took a few minutes for everything to boot up, but they finally got Blaine situated at his desk, and Kurt propped back on the bed. “Okay, so, I’m going to call and you’ll get a little ring like this…”

A moment later, Kurt’s face popped up on Blaine’s screen and the distinctive Skype ring sounded from his speakers. A click of ‘accept’ and there was Kurt’s face, slightly hesitating as it moved with Kurt’s movement. “There you are,” Blaine said.

“Here I am!” Kurt announced. “See, it’s great. We can see each other, we can watch tv together, we can… other things… together,” he added with a wicked little grin.

Blaine turned back and looked pointedly at Kurt in the flesh. “Other things you say?” he chuckled.

“No!” Kurt snapped. “Look at the screen! We’re practicing on the screen.”

“But it’s weird hearing you both behind me and in front of me,” Blaine said. “And seeing you both behind me and in front of me. It’s not as strange if you’re just here in my room with me.”

Kurt closed his laptop and slid off the bed. “Okay, then I’m going to go somewhere else in the house and we’re going to do it from two different rooms. You sit here, you wait, and I’ll call you.”

Kurt was _not_ going to go an entire year without seeing Blaine’s face, so if he had to sit down in every room in the Anderson house and call Blaine and make him practice his Skype conversation skills, he’d do it. And it wasn’t like Blaine didn’t like technology -- his first ‘courage’ text was still saved on Kurt’s phone after all this time. He couldn’t figure out why video chat was the only thing Blaine seemed weird about. 

He chose the kitchen first, setting the laptop down and searching for a plug. “Are you looking for something, dear?” Mrs. Anderson said warmly, standing in the doorway to the study. “Just unplug the coffee maker. Did Blaine throw you out of his room for some reason?”

“Oh, no,” Kurt said as he found the plug. “No, we’re practicing using Skype so that we can see each other when I eventually move since he’ll still be here.”

“Do you have plans yet?” she asked. “Blaine told me about that theater school.”

“Not yet,” Kurt sighed. “But… I’m working on it.”

“You’ll figure something out,” she said, smiling. “And best of luck to you getting Blaine to use Skype. He won’t even use it to talk to his grandmother, who is just thrilled that one of the nurses at her facility set up a big screen for families to call in. And he certainly won’t use it with Cooper. Not since the incident,” she chuckled.

Well, that sounded like a promising answer. “The incident?” Kurt asked. “There was an incident? He’s not just weird and planning on eventually unplugging and moving out to the middle of the Nevada desert with the rest of the people concerned about EMPs and other things that Sam has insisted are both important and pervasive.”

Mrs. Anderson laughed. “Oh, no. Cooper liked to mess with Blaine when he was little, because Blaine was so impressionable. And he believed anything you told him. He was such a sweet little boy. Well, Cooper being fourteen and a bit of a jerk, decided to see if he could convince Blaine that he was talking to him from the future. So he got his father’s camcorder and recorded a video of him pausing at certain points after asking Blaine questions, so Blaine would think that he was actually answering Blaine’s questions from the TV. And he decided he was going to convince Blaine that aliens were attacking. Well, it worked, and Blaine was so scared that this was going to happen that he slept in my bed for a week. And Cooper was grounded for month.”

“I would pay good money to see this tape,” Kurt said. And he’s sure that YouTube would love to see the freecreditratingtoday.com/savings guy doing his best War of the Worlds slash Doctor Who impression.

“I’ll see if I can find it,” Mrs. Anderson chuckled. “Cooper was always a handful. He got better, though. But ever since then, people talking at you through a screen has been uncomfortable for Blaine.”

“I’m sure he’ll work through it,” Kurt said. “I’ll get it to where he’ll talk to his grandma online.”

“That would be a help, dear,” she said. “Well, don’t keep him waiting. I’m going to get back to my movie.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Anderson,” Kurt said, waiting until she was back in the study before pulling up Skype and calling Blaine. He ruffled his hair and unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt quickly before he could answer.

“Hey,” Blaine said as his face popped up on screen. “Took you a while.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t have much time!” Kurt said in his best breathless voice. “The flux capacitor is about to overload, and we only have enough power to send this message once. It’s up to you, Blaine Anderson, to save us from the invading lizard people. Or else they’ll eat us all.” He turned to look off to the side, taking a deep breath and giving his best ‘ahhhhhhh’ of terror without yelling. “They’ll eat us all!’

Blaine’s eyes went wide… and then narrowed. “She _told_ you!” he accused. “Mom!” he called out. “I know she’s there. It was not funny -- I really thought that Cooper was doing some weird future thing, and I was just a little kid and you shouldn’t do that to a little kid. I didn’t mean to get crayon on his leather jacket.”

“Whoa, sorry, calm down!” Kurt laughed. “I touched a nerve. Relax.”

“Relax?” Blaine asked. “You want me to relax? And that’s not the only thing Coop did to me when I was little. He treated me like… like one of those dogs that you borrow from the Human Society and take it for a walk and your entire goal is to get girls to talk to you.”

“But I bet you were the cutest little dog.”

“I _was_ ,” Blaine sighed. “Okay, and maybe he’d always buy me ice cream afterwards. And he only left me in the park that one time, and it was only for, like, thirty minutes.”

Kurt propped his chin up on his hand. “You survived.”

Blaine nodded. “I guess… if you really think about it… it is kind of a funny story.”

“You know what else is?”

“Hmm?”

“That you and I are having a very normal conversation, and you haven’t been weird once about the fact that I’m in the screen instead of sitting next to you.”

Blaine cocked his head, pursing his lips as he considered. “Huh. I guess you’re right. Number four completed.”

“Number four completed,” Kurt chuckled.

“I don’t want to tell Cooper that he had any part in either the problem or the solution.”

“My lips are sealed.”


	6. Teach Me the Full Skincare Routine

“Just when I think there can’t be any more bottles...there are _more_ bottles.”

Kurt turned his head and smiled over his shoulder. “I’ve walked you through the routine before.”

“Yeah, but it was while we were on the phone,” Blaine said as he sat down on the corner of Kurt’s bed. “And I just thought… you know…”

“Hmm?” Kurt mused as he retrieved a bottle of toner from the vanity drawer.

“That you were exaggerating.”

Kurt swallowed a snort. “You know me better than that.” 

“That’s true.” Blaine leaned forward and tried to count the bottles and potions on the table. The bottles were blue… not the white he’d gotten glimpses of sitting out before. “Did you get new stuff?”

“Oh, no, these aren’t mine,” Kurt replied, gathering up the collected bottles into his arms. “These are yours.”

“No…” Blaine trailed off, but Kurt had walked right past him with the products and out into the hall. “Hey, Kurt, wait up,” he called out. He hopped up from the bed and followed him into the hallway bathroom, where Kurt was arranging the bottles in a neat line along the edge of the sink. “I thought you were going to show me your routine.”

“Well it makes no sense to show you _my_ routine, because it works for me but not for you,” Kurt replied. “Your skin is oilier than mine, more facial hair that you need to get rid of, and anything that I use for my delicate porcelain skin just wouldn’t do anything for you.”

“Did you just basically tell me that you’re prettier than me?” Blaine asked lightly. Kurt simply shrugged in response. “I mean, I’m not disagreeing,” Blaine laughed. “I just want to make sure we’re on the same page with you insulting my face.”

Kurt leaned over and placed a light kiss on Blaine’s lips. “I love your face,” he murmured. “Which is why we’re going to work hard to make sure that it stays that way and doesn’t all of a sudden start acne scarring and wrinkling by the age of 25.”

“You know, I have a pretty good routine already,” Blaine tried.

Kurt rolled his eyes. “A bottle of Clean and Clear and a can of Barbasol do not a routine make.”

“That’s the definition of a routine, Kurt.”

“Not an appropriate one,” Kurt countered. “My plan is to go down the Paul Newman route and look devastatingly gorgeous until I drop dead at the ripe old age of 120, because by the time we get there, surely science will have some way for me to inject stem cells into my face or something. And I will not have some wrinkledy old man on my arm.” He offered Blaine an unlabeled screw top tub. “So, either we get you onto a solid skin care regimen, or I’m going to be forced to abandon you for the as yet unborn but surely coming and inevitably devastatingly attractive youngest son of Jay-Z and Beyoncé.”

“We can’t have that happen,” Blaine agreed. He unscrewed the top and dipped his finger in the gritty gel. “So… exfoliator?”

“Homemade,” Kurt beamed proudly. “I’m going to take you through a very long, full routine. You don’t need to do this all the time, but we’re going to exfoliate first so that you can get a really close shave.” He brushed his finger down Blaine’s cheek. “You’re getting a little sloppy in the summer.”

“Hey, some guys a little scruff,” Blaine chuckled.

“Oh, sweetie, this isn’t scruff -- this is just you being scratchy when I kiss you. My skin already gets regular exfoliation, it doesn’t need help.”

Blaine just continued to smile. “Alright. Well, it’s on the list, so I’m going to let you do whatever you want to me.”

Kurt’s eyes lit up. “I do love it when you say things like that,” he murmured. 

“Well… my parents are going to be gone all weekend,” Blaine mused. He tilted his chin up to let Kurt get a better look at his pores, although it seemed like Kurt wasn’t terribly interested in that any more. Kurt’s eyes narrowed and his smile quirked up a bit more. “We could knock number six off the list… and other things.”

“And would you look at that, Mercedes just happened to invite me over for just the same amount of time that your parents are gone,” Kurt chuckled. “Fancy that.”

“Fancy that,” Blaine chuckled. “So… come by tomorrow for dinner aaaaaand number six?” he drawled.

“Watch out, or I won’t be able to concentrate on the matter at hand.” 

“Shame.”

Blaine’s hands had found Kurt’s hips, and it took every shred of ‘Carole’s just downstairs’ and ‘if we start we won’t stop’ and ‘there will be plenty of time tomorrow night at Blaine’s house’ and ‘Carole is _just downstairs_ and will probably pop upstairs any minute’ for him to push Blaine’s hands down. Instead, he placed _his_ hands on _Blaine’s_ hips and moved him to sit down on the toilet lid. “Tomorrow,” he promised, leaning down to kiss Blaine, his hands and lips lingering far longer than they should’ve when he was promising ‘tomorrow’. He pulled back and smiled -- Blaine’s eyes were fixed on him. He loved that look. “Tomorrow,” he assured him, shifting his weight from one leg to another to make sure his hips shimmied as he stood back up. 

“Tease,” Blaine croaked, before clearing his throat.

“You love it,” Kurt replied. “So… lets talk exfoliator. This is my homemade sugar scrub. Honey, sugar, and that’s pretty much it. It’ll clear out all your pores and make your beard soft for shaving.”

“I don’t have a beard,” Blaine said, as Kurt scooped out some of the scrub with his fingers. “I just didn’t shave this morning because you told me not to. It’s a little prickly, but it’s not a beard. I would look weird with a beard.” He tilted his head back as Kurt started to rub the scrub down his jaw line. “Please don’t ask me to grow a beard.”

“Ever?”

“I would look _so weird_ ,” Blaine insisted. Kurt had moved towards his cheeks and up the bridge of his nose. He forced himself to close his eyes as Kurt’s fingers moved across his forehead.

Kurt hummed happily, applying enough pressure to really get down into Blaine’s skin. “I can’t make a sweeping promise,” he said. “Who knows what will be in style next season. The lumberjack look could come back.”

“My favorite plaid shirt is pink,” Blaine chuckled. Kurt’s fingers were moving down his neck now. “I would look like… some… candy-colored lumberjack elf.”

“Yes, and you would be _my_ candy-colored lumberjack elf,” Kurt replied brightly. “Besides, I distinctly remember you saying that the idea of my flannel phase turned you on.”

“Yeah, but that was in private,” Blaine murmured. “Not for sharing with the general public. Or walking outside. I’d never make you go to Target in your puffy vest.”

“I’d finally look like the rest of Lima,” Kurt pointed out. “There, now rinse off your face. And you’re going to use this face wash… it’ll help with the oily skin,” he added, pulling one of the tubes forward. 

Blaine got up and dutifully followed directions. First, washing off the sticky, but surprisingly soothing scrub, and then followed up with the facewash. He reached blindly for a towel, thanking Kurt when he handed him one. “But what if I don’t want you look like the rest of Lima?” he asked as he pat his face dry. “The rest of Lima is boring. And you don’t want to look like the rest of Lima either.” He folded up the hand towel and let it rest on the side of the sink as he looked at Kurt once more. “I meant it when I said you were the most interesting kid in Lima. It’s one of the reasons I love you. Don’t ever start dressing drab and Ohio-y.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Kurt promised him. “How about we both promise to skip lumberjack chic when it invariably comes back around?”

“Deal,” Blaine agreed. “So… shaving?”

“New razor,” Kurt instructed, as he pulled out the razor and another blue tube. “And shaving cream.”

Blaine took a closer look at the tube this time. “Beard lube?” he chuckled.

Kurt gave him a quick swat on the ass as Blaine laughed again. “You get your mind out of the gutter.”

“You don’t hand me _beard lube_ and expect me not to laugh,” Blaine pointed out. “Besides, I guess I should expect it when a comedian makes it.”

“Jack Black is the _brand_ ,” Kurt said as Blaine started massaging the gel on his jawline. “It’s not made by Jack Black the actor. It’s a highly awarded line. Do you really think I’d give you something crafted by one half of Tenacious D?”

“I’ve learned not to ask too many questions,” Blaine replied breezily. “Especially when it comes to Kurt and skincare.”

“You know, for someone who takes such meticulous care of his hair, it surprises me that you don’t do the same for your skin.”

Blaine pulled the razor across his cheek and rinsed the blade. “I was never made fun of for my skin,” he explained between passes. “Well, during the summer when I’d be out at the pool with Mom and have my summer tan, I was told to go back home to Mexico, but that’s different. Kids had all sorts of fun with my curls. I mean, you’ve seen it ungelled. It was a poofy Prom nightmare.”

“My bushy-headed boyfriend,” Kurt sighed. “Well, we’re going to make sure you take as good a care of your skin as your hair, because I’m a big fan of both. Here, pat dry,” he said, offering Blaine the towel again. “And now we moisturize. An oil-free lotion, and it’ll make sure you stay matte all day.”

“Matt? But my name is Blaine,” Blaine replied.

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Just pat on the moisturizer. And then, you’re going to pat on this eye cream right under your eyes with your ring finger. It’s the weakest finger and we don’t want to pull the skin. That makes wrinkles. Here,” he said, placing a small dab of the cream on his own ring finger and patting it onto Blaine’s skin. “I’ll do it for you this first time,” he murmured. “Just gently like that. Nothing pulling. So… can you guess what the last step is?”

“My guess is sunblock,” Blaine said. “Since this is being instructed by my incredibly fair boyfriend.”

“I will not have you risking melanoma and wrinkles just because you’re not white as a sheet of paper,” Kurt said. “Sunblock. One with zinc because I’m just not sure about avobenzone yet. The zinc and titanium dioxide will sit on top of the skin and block everything. And this one,” he said, pulling out a white bottle, “will dry perfectly clear. No white marks, and no melanoma. It’s a win for everyone involved. So we shaaaaake,” he instructed, shaking the bottle for a solid minute before opening the lid. “And then we pour a bit on the back of our hand, and then spread it over the entirety of your face.”

Kurt watched as Blaine spread the sunblock, resting his chin on Blaine’s shoulder once he was finished. “And now… you look gorgeous. But then, you always do.”

Blaine pat his cheek, turning left and right to inspect Kurt’s handiwork. “It feels good. Very smooth. I’m practically glowing.” He dropped his head to rest on top of Kurt’s. “So… does this mean you’re not going to ditch me in ten years for a younger, sexier model?”

“Nah,” Kurt said. “I’ve put too much work into this model to get it just right,” he chuckled. He tilted his head and kissed Blaine’s jaw. “But then, this model was pretty perfect to begin with.”


	7. Watch All The Marvel Movies… For the Plot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And because of this chapter, the rating had to notch up. Because of sexy times. Enjoy.

“Not that Robert Downey Jr. isn’t delightful, but when do we get to the muscular blonde with the star-spangled ass?”

Blaine gasped, his hand shooting up to clutch at his heart in mock horror. “Are you seriously asking me to skip forward just because you have a boner for Chris Evans?”

“Are you complaining because that would mean skipping over _your_ boner for Chris Hemsworth?” Kurt countered.

“I do _not_ have a boner for Thor!” Blaine insisted. “I just really relate to his journey of suddenly being unsure of his place in the universe,” he hedged.

Kurt turned on the couch, propping his arm up on the back of the couch and watching his boyfriend. “You’re a suddenly displaced Asgardian prince stuck on Earth without your magical hammer, is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

“I thought you said you hadn’t seen the movie,” Blaine said.

Kurt just shrugged. “I haven’t. But I _have_ heard Sam’s 20 minute lunchroom rendition of the movie. Along with other such classics as _Avatar_ , _Superman_ \-- like, three of those, I think -- not to mention at least eight Batman movies both with and without rubber nipples..’.”

“George Clooney should never have to wear rubber nipples,” Blaine insisted. “He is too good looking to ever wear rubber nipples.”

“You’re just itching for some silver fox to be your sugar daddy, aren’t you?” Kurt teased.

“I don’t need a sugar daddy -- I already have you,” Blaine tossed back. “Besides, you spoil me. I get my oil changed,” he murmured, leaning in to Kurt and pressing his lips against Kurt’s ear, “for free.”

“That’s cause I’m a high roller, baby,” Kurt chuckled. “Besides, Mr. Private School, wouldn’t you technically be _my_ sugar daddy?”

“You went to Dalton too,” Blaine pointed out. 

“Yes, and apparently during that time, Dad and Carole bought store brand 1-ply toilet paper,” Kurt said.

Blaine’s eyes went wide. “There’s something other than 2-ply?” he asked, slightly horrified. “Like, you’re telling me that there is a version of toilet paper that’s like the tissues they have at the doctor’s office. The ones you can see through?” When Kurt nodded, Blaine shook his head. “No. That’s terrible. It would be like… the paper’s not even soft. Your nose ends up redder and more sore than the cold made it. It’s inhumane. I can only imagine what it would do to… well…”

“That’s what Finn said,” Kurt sighed. “Well, not in so many words. His exact words were ‘it’s terrible -- it makes the, you know, the place where you pee, you know, ouch’.”

“Yeah... that sounds like Finn.”

“Rachel insists that he does sexy talk in private,” Kurt said, “but if the only thing he calls it is ‘you know, the place where you pee’ either he completely shifts gears in private or she has very low standards.”

They looked at each other for a moment. “She has very low standards,” they said in unison, causing them both to laugh.

“You know,” Blaine pointed out, “he may just not want to call it his penis in front of you.”

“I don’t know why,” Kurt said. “I mean, okay, there was this one time where I decorated the basement as our own personal pied-à-terre…”

“According to Puck, you chased him for years,” Blaine chuckled. “Big burly football player. That was the entire reason you got your dad and his mom together in the first place, according to Mercedes.”

Kurt waved that off. “Details.”

“I’m not sure how I should feel about your apparent hard-on for big, muscular, athletic guys,” Blaine said. He turned and leaned back on the couch, glancing up at the ceiling. “Finn… Steve Rogers… both way bigger than me…”

“Aw, sweetie,” Kurt cooed, letting his hand fall on Blaine’s thigh and smiling as he watched Blaine try valiantly not to grin. “Are you jealous? You think that I don’t love my pocket-sized boyfriend just because I like Captain America?”

“Pocket-sized?” Blaine asked lightly. “That’s not making me feel very heroic.”

“Well… not _all_ of you is pocket-sized,” Kurt pointed out. “Your ass could give any star-spangled superhero a run for the money.”

Blaine placed a finger against his lips. “Shh, my dad is upstairs,” he chuckled quietly.

“Oh, really, now you’re concerned?” Kurt said, attempting to keep his voice down.

“I just know where the conversation usually heads after you talk about my ass.”

“Wow, someone’s confident,” Kurt murmured. He looked away from Blaine and leaned back against the couch. They watched a drunk Tony Stark ruin a perfectly good birthday party. “There _is_ something we could do,” he suggested.

“Hmm?”

Kurt leaned forward and grabbed the remote from the coffee table in front of them. He turned up the volume a couple of notches, just as Rhodey came out in one of the Iron Man suits. “Kurt, it’s a little loud,” Blaine said, but he stopped talking as soon as Kurt leaned back… and his hand slid back on to Blaine’s thigh. “What are…”

“Shhh,” Kurt murmured, his hand nudging Blaine’s shorts up a little higher. “Remember, your dad is upstairs.”

“Wait, what are you think-” Blaine sucked in a sharp breath as Kurt’s hand cupped his dick. “But… my dad…”

“Are you telling me to stop?” Kurt murmured. “I could stop.”

“Nooo,” Blaine breathed, his head falling back against the couch. “We can’t… I mean…”

“If we’re quiet, no one will know,” Kurt promised. “Your dad’s in his study, we’re in the family room.”

“But… anyone could walk in…” Blaine tried.

Kurt leaned over and placed a light kiss on his cheek. “Exciting, huh?”

Blaine smiled, his breath catching again as Kurt’s fingers rubbed his tip through his shorts. “Yeah,” he he agreed. “Yeah, it is.” He swallowed. “What are you going to do?”

“Well, it takes a while to get my hands all the way from the top,” Kurt murmured, his thumb making circles around the tip before flattening his hand and sliding his palm down between Blaine’s legs, “all the way to the bottom. And then all the way back to the top.” He repeated the motion, slowly. “Like I said, not all of you is pocket-sized. And it’s _so hard_.”

“What do you expect,” Blaine breathed. “You’re trying to get me to come in my pants while sitting on my parents’ couch and watching a movie.”

“Mmm, true,” Kurt conceded. “But I like that I can do this to you. Makes up for how much you like to watch Chris Hemsworth.”

“This is better,” Blaine answered quickly. He shifted his hips up, pressing his erection harder into Kurt’s hand. “Please.”

“We should just watch the movie,” Kurt said, although his hand dared not stop it’s long, methodical stroke. “I mean, I’ve never seen it. Wouldn’t you rather-”

“Movies are dumb, and so are superheroes, and _please don’t stop_ ,” Blaine hissed, struggling desperately to keep his voice softer than the movie’s dialogue.

“We should talk about the movie,” Kurt continued. “This is obviously something that’s very near and dear to your heart. I know how much of a fan you are. So, explain to me, why is Rhodey in a suit now? I thought there was only one Iron Man.”

Blaine swallowed hard. “You can’t be serious?” he whimpered. 

Kurt leaned closer and pressed his lips against Blaine’s ear. “You don’t want anyone to get suspicious, do you?” he murmured. “Just think… you told me Cooper was _never_ allowed to be alone with a girl. If we do this, you’ve done something he _never_ got to do.” Blaine nodded. “And just think how much trouble you’d be in if your dad got suspicious and came in here right now and saw you flushed, and my hand rubbing your lap, and your dick trying desperately to peek out from under your shorts.”

“It’s not…” Blaine breathed as he tugged the hem of his shirt down just in case.

“You look positively vulgar,” Kurt continued, his lips brushing against Blaine’s ear as he spoke. “You lick your lips when you’re turned on, you know?”

“Cause I’ve been practicing and I’d love to get some more practice in,” Blaine whispered.

Kurt leaned back. “Practicing what?”

Blaine opened his eyes and turned to smile at Kurt. “You know,” he murmured.

Now it was Kurt’s turn to blush. “Later,” he murmured. “Your parents have to leave eventually. For now… tell me about the movie.”

“War Machine,” he answered, not bothering to turn and look at the movie again. “He becomes War Machine and… oh… _Kurt_...” he gasped.

“Quiet,” Kurt chided. Blaine bit his lip, nodding. “Don’t say another word.”

This wasn’t how he originally planned for the movie to go, but Kurt wasn’t going to complain about Blaine’s dick in his hand, even if it was through his shorts. Blaine was doing his best to stay silent -- really, they would be in _so much trouble_ if Mr. Anderson came downstairs. He’d opened the front door to them kissing a couple months ago and the look of disapproval he gave could’ve frightened Coach Sylvester. Blaine said he was coming around on the whole ‘hey, I have a serious boyfriend’ thing, but if that was the look they got for kissing on the front porch, god only knew what would happen if he walked in on _this_. 

But wasn’t that what made it exciting? They could get in _so much trouble_. And neither of them ever broke that many rules. Sure, there was that time he tried to cause a ruckus in the library, but that didn’t cause as much of a stir as he’d hoped. And that was at McKinley -- doing things in the library at Dalton seemed to be part of the Warblers modus operandi and didn’t even cause the librarian to blink. And here they were, just daring someone to walk in on them. And not just anyone -- Blaine’s dad would be the least amused of either of their parents.

They just needed to Blaine to stay quiet.

… the whimpering each time Kurt gave his dick a squeeze wasn’t helping.

“So tell me about War Machine,” Kurt murmured.

“I’m close,” Blaine breathed. 

“... to explaining who War Machine is?” Kurt added. “How helpful.”

“You’re going to make me _come in my pants_ ,” Blaine gasped. “Please…”

“Please stop or please go?” Kurt whispered. 

Blaine’s mouth opened and his head fell back. “Please…” 

His dick was all but jumping against Kurt’s hand, and his balls were pulled tight. It wouldn’t take much now. If Kurt stopped now… no, he wouldn’t stop now. He wanted to see Blaine come. He hadn’t even _kissed_ him. It was quick, and dirty, and secret, and sure he’d given Blaine a hand job before, but that had been in private and he’d _actually_ touched skin. This was… Kurt felt powerful. He was making Blaine look absolutely wrecked even though he was fully dressed. This was because of him. His boyfriend looked like a from the shoulders up porn scene because of _him_ and _his_ hands, and if he could do _this_...

Blaine gasped, his hips pressing up into Kurt’s hand, and jerking once.. twice… and a third before he leaned back and released the breath his was holding. “I…” he swallowed. “Wow.”

“That was… wow,” Kurt chuckled. He pulled his hand back -- the short were thick enough that he didn’t see any tell-tale wet spot. “That was good.”

Blaine nodded. “I… um… I need to…”

Kurt nodded too. “Yeah, you should hit the restroom,” he agreed. Blaine’s expression was blank, but that could just be because of what they’d done. “You… um, you liked that, right?”

“I’ll be right back,” Blaine murmured, hopping up from the couch and ducking around the corner.

Kurt watched his disappear reluctantly. Had he done something wrong? Did Blaine _not_ enjoy that? Was it too far? He’d looked so happy right until he came. It was supposed to be something new and exciting and a little dangerous, but what if Blaine was embarrassed? “Shit,” Kurt murmured. They’d had sex, but they were always alone in a house, or in the car, so maybe Blaine didn’t like the idea of someone being able to catch them. What if he was angry? He didn’t want to make Blaine angry.

Blaine returned a few minutes later, and crossed over to the tv. “Blaine,” Kurt said as his boyfriend turned off the movie and ejected the disc. “Blaine, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you wouldn’t like that. I was just trying to be fun and spontaneous and exciting.” Blaine put in a new movie and neither of them said anything until the menu for _Captain America_ came up on the screen. “But… we having finished the last one,” Kurt said.

Blaine pressed the play button on the remote before sitting back down next to Kurt. He turned to look at Kurt, biting his lip absently as he slid his hand into Kurt’s lap. “I figured we’d skip ahead,” he murmured. 

“Blaine,” Kurt gasped as Blaine cupped his hand around his balls. “But, I thought-”

Blaine leaned over to kiss Kurt’s cheek. “Your turn, now.”


End file.
